


Perks of Beholding 2

by Serazimei



Series: Perks of Beholding [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Strained Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29801457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serazimei/pseuds/Serazimei
Summary: Jon has adopted an archival cat and continues to come to work trailed by various animals. How is Tim to hold a grudge in this climate?
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims & Animals, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims, Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker
Series: Perks of Beholding [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190480
Comments: 15
Kudos: 86





	Perks of Beholding 2

_Jonathan fucking Sims_. Tim couldn't believe it. Frankly he didn't want to believe it. Any of it. The confrontation with Elias felt surreal enough without Jon cuddling a huge cat all the while. There was too much to digest. Basira had been added to the prisoner staff, Melanie was currently plotting murder, Jon was turning into a monster, Elias a monster and they couldn't quit.

Fuck, they couldn't _quit_. Couldn't even stay away from the institute for long without feeling sick. They were working for a fear god! Tim wanted to cry. He wanted to punch someone. Preferably Elias or Jon. Burn the whole place down after that. Or before that. He hadn't decided yet if he wanted the freaks inside the building when he burned it down. He could just punch their smoldering corpses, but he didn't think that would do much harm.

It didn't help that Basira took all of this in stride. Or that Jon kept trying to make amends whenever he was in the archives. Which wasn't much. He was out most of the time, running around trailing after the breadcrumps Elias had laid out for him.

Today was one of those rare days where he was in. Tim wanted to turn around and leave the moment he entered the archives. He didn't want another awkward emotional talk. He stopped dead in his tracks instead. There Jon was, standing in the middle of the archives hissing at a cat, two squirrels hiding in his hair and several small sparrows cuddling on the crown of his head.

"What the fuck."

"Oh, Tim! Good... good morning! How- I mean I hope you had a good night last night."

"What? Where you watching?"

Jon took a step back when Tim approached, the widening of those green eyes only making the rage within him scream louder. Green. They were green now when they had been brown before.

"No! No, no, no I wasn't! I just thought... that's how you do small talk."

Tim came to a stop mere inches in front of him, crossing his arms and glaring him down. Once upon a time he would have tried to easy Jons anxiety. Would have donned a smile, made sure to keep a bit more space between them, lowered his voice a bit.

 _He doesn't deserve that, anymore. He'd probably be able to obliterate you with his freaky eye powers anyway._ Tim narrowed his eyes instead, hardening his glare. "Right."

The cat that Jon had brought into the confrontation with Elias batted at his shoe and hissed, all puffed up and ready to attack. The sparrows started chirping, one of the squirrels took the opportunity to dart off and the other nervously played with the earing shaped like a hazelnut Jon had taken to wearing, making the Archivist wince.

Several meows, chirps and squeaks left Jon as he adressed the various animals, effectively quietning them down. Tim didn't know what to do with that. He wanted his anger to stay, but at the same time he wanted to coo out loud.

"Double boss won't be happy that you dragged so many animals into the building." He settled on instead.

Jon shifted his weight. He had been favouring his right side a lot these days and Tim wondered if the wounds from Prentiss' attack had flared up again. The coins on his scarve tingled pleasantly as he moved. Now that he thought about it, Jon had taken to wearing a lot of clothes with shiny, dangling things on them.

"Elias can eat shit and die for all I care."

Tim coughed to cut off his snort. No, he wouldn't be amused. He wouldn't. "I'm sure he heard that."

Jon nodded, as carefully as he could so as not to dislodge any of the small animals. He had one of those prickly, serious boss expressions on and his tone was perfectly deadpan when he said "Good."

"Alright. I'm going to make coffee now. Bye."

It was too cute. Fuck, Jon hadn't been this adorable since Research. It wasn't fair. Thankfully he had detached himself from the situation fast enough and Jon had finally learned not to follow him when he had obviously cut off the conversation.

He tried avoiding Jon even harder after that, but he kept stumbling into these little scenes, sometimes even out of the institute. Once he had taken a late night stroll because he hadn't been able to sleep and found Jon sitting at a park bench talking to the ducks. Ducks which should have been asleep. And which shouldn't have gotten so close to a stranger without food, especially with their young.

Tim had to admit he had been a little jealous. Those ducklings had looked so fluffy.

And Jon. Fuck Jon had been _smiling_! And not that anxious am-I-doing-this-right or please-don't-try-to-stab-me smile either. That rare, dimples showing, eyes lighting up I'm-actually-super-soft-and-happy-deluxe smile that Tim would have killed for in their earlier days.

He'd had to turn on his heels and run back to his flat that night, vehemently trying to keep a hold of that hatred for Jon Sims. He had spend the rest of it desperately counting out every mistake that man had made and every blame Tim associated with that bastard. And still he fell asleep with the memory of that damned smile.

~~~

Tim was staring at the statement in his hands. Jon was coming back from his trip through America soon and Tim had only been in on the fact that they were planning to attack the Circus for a few days now. It shouldn't have been surprising that they hadn't told him about it. Tim hadn't been in the archives much and his relationships with the staff had deteriorated a lot. He was still mad about it. Especially at Jon. _He_ was the boss. He should have called a meeting or something, explained what was going on to all of them. Instead he had run off again on a wild goose chase. Fucker.

Jons incompetency as a leader was about the only thing Tim found he could hold against him anymore. The more Stranger statements he read the more he realized Jons paranoia hadn't been exactly natural.

Tims head thudded against the wood of his desk and groaned, hands tugging at his hair. He didn't like that. Trying to detangle who was at fault for what made his head hurt. There had been so much manipulation, so many faux choices and confusion. It was nigh impossible to muddle through.

Martin poked his head out of the breakroom at the noise. He had been hovering close all day, opening and closing his mouth before fleeing back into the little kitchen to make more tea. All members of the archive squad had at least three mugs standing on their desks at this point. But not even Melanie was mean enough to tell him off for it. The man was clearly stressed and he did make a damn good cup of tea.

"Are you alright?"

Tim sighed and burrowed deeper into his arms. Of course Martin would find his voice again to ask about his wellbeing.

"Peachy."

"Uhu. Say... Are you busy?"

"No Martin, I'm not currently the only one trying to figure out where the Unknowing will take place."

"Cool, cool." Really Tim wanted the time back where Martin didn't just ignore his sarcasm. He also wanted the time back where Sasha was still alive. Fuck his life.

Martin placed another cup of tea in front of him and Tim moved some of the papers away so they wouldn't get wet. Is this how Jon felt that first year? Wanting to get work done and always being interrupted by people trying to coddle or needle him about something? No wonder he had been so prickly all the time. Wait was he seriously being empathetic towards his monster boss? Disgusting.

"So I was wondering-"

"Please don't go on."

"Jon is coming back today."

"Amazing."

"And I thought about meeting him at the airport? I've seen him struggling with his luggage when he left."

"He's so small." Tim agreed despite himself.

"And his luggage so big." Martin nodded. "Do you want to come with?"

"No."

"Please think about it before you answer." Martin whispered, taking one of the empty mugs to clean them up. He probably hadn't even looked in the direction of a statement all day.

Tim played with one of his pens, rolling it up and down while he tried very hard to keep his head empty. It more or less worked until the end of his work day. Martin kept shooting him hopeful glances, donning his jacket in slow motion and climbing the stairs one step a minute.

The cat that had started to live with them in the archives pawed at his leg, meowing in a shrill, demanding noise.

Groaning once again Tim stood up. "Alright you fucker, let's go."

The tabby started to purr when he heaved him up and deposited him into Martins waiting arms, so Tim too could shield himself from the cold weather outside with stylish, but ultimately useless fabric.

Tim was pretty sure it was illegal to transport an animal without a leash or carrier. And if not illegal than at least very, very frowned upon. They got worried looks when they entered the tube and the security at the airport made aborted attempts to approach them more than once.

He was debating if he was in the mood to flirt them out of a tight spot should the need arise, when the Captain (Jon had a weird naming system for cats) jumped out of Martins arms and raced to the twig of a person wobbling towards them.

"Captain!" Jon nearly fell over in order to pick the frantic cat up, nearly purring himself as his face was licked in greeting. Or maybe he did purr. Maybe that came with the package of strange sounds he was now able to produce.

Unbidden the thought of Jons head in his lap, chest rumbling like a motor boat because of Tims hands in his hair came to his mind and his face heated up.

"Jon!"

He had never been so happy for Martin to draw the attention to him.

"Martin? _Tim_?!"

"No need to sound so surprised." Tim muttered. "You look like shit." Louder.

"Sorry." His standard response these days. And he was nervous again, curling into himself and clutching the Captain like a lifeline.

"He didn't mean it like that, Jon." Martin said in that gentle, soothing voice that Tim had lost somewhere between Prentiss and Not-Sasha. "You must be tired. Jet lag and all that. Have you eaten already?"

"Not on the plane, no. Queasy."

"Ah. Are you up to getting take out?"

They wandered over to the line where the luggage was supposed to come out. Martin walking close to Jon, half ready to catch him should a stiff breeze throw him off balance. Tim was walking ahead, the only one really paying attention to the bags passing them by.

"I... Yes? I'll have to get-"

"Got it. Let's go." The sooner they got it all over with the sooner he could go back to stewing in peace.

They didn't go too far, sitting down in a bit of green after getting something edible from the nearest Tesco. Jon was nestled between them, careful not to touch either of them, the Captain dutifully holding vigil in his lap.

"Jon stop giving half your food to the local wildlife." Tim scolded, after watching him feed nearly half his bread to the various birds that flocked to them. Some were glancing at Tims own meal with a bit too much hunger for his liking.

"They're hungry, Tim."

"And so should you be. Look at you."

Jon curled into himself more with a muttered "I'm fine." The look the Captain gave Tim after that promised murder.

"So Jon." Martin gently steered the conversation away from the trainwreck it would have become had he let Tim retort. "How was America? Any new leads?"

Martin and Jon had presumably been chatting every now and then over the phone. Tim didn't know what they had talked about. Given that it was Jon and Martin it had probably been nothing work related.

"Ah... Quite underwhelming to be honest. I got kidnapped by Trevor and Julia, you know the people from statements #0020312 and #0100710? Became Slaughter and Hunt Avatars respectively, so I guess that solves the mystery of why Trevor didn't die."

"Perfect. Exactly what you flew to America for."

"Tim shut up and let him speak."

Tim huffed, but secretly wished the small, fond smile Jon gifted Martin had been directed at him.

"They had the skin book with them, the one Mary Keay used. That's where I found Gerry."

"Who?" Shit Tim wished he could remember statements like Jon did. All these names and numbers confused him.

Jon was grinning like a little child, but his eyes were sad. "Gerard Keay? The one that ran around burning Leitners."

"Oh the one you were simping for all that time, got it."

"Tim!"

Tim chuckled at Martins outraged cry, Jon ducking to hide his blush in the Captains fur.

"Ahem. Anyway. He died of a tumor a while back and Gertrude bound him to the skin book. She was caught in the act and arrested. The book somehow got into the hands of Trevor and Julia later on, who used him as a monster hunting manual. They allowed me to meet him and I stole the page afterwards."

"What why?" Martin didn't look at all happy about that.

"That's so fucked up."

Jon nodded, as always oblivious to Martins clear as day crush on him. "He asked me to burn his page. Being bound to the skin book... it hurts. He said it's agonizing, being dead, but not dead. Trevor and Julia wouldn't have allowed it, so I had to rip the page out. I didn't find the time to burn the page yet. I wanted to do it first thing when I came back here."

"Oh..." Martin visibly relaxed and Tim would have snorted had he not felt so sad. Here was another guy, fucked over thrice by the Eye. And for what? Because some old coot wanted to preserve information?

"This will definitely bite you in the arse later. Anyway, let's burn the page together. Make an event out of it. Or funeral. Whatever."

The smile on Jons face turned brittle as he continued to stroke his cat. "Yes. Yes I think he would have liked that. Someone to mourn him."

"Hmm." Tim leant back to gaze at the starless night sky. It was always about death and misery these days. And animals. He mused, one of the sparrows having dared to hop closer to pick at his abandoned food. "How about we summon him one last time, introduce the mourners." He couldn't help but needle.

"No. I don't... Summoning must hurt. I'm not making him go through that again."

Jon really was such a big softy when he wasn't digging himself a hole out of paranoia and anxiety. Damn it.

"Cool, then let's make a bonfire."

Before Jon could open his mouth to argue Tim had produced a lighter out of his jeans pocket. A few moments later all three of them stared at the remains of Gerard Keay, the fire burning longer and brighter than it should.

Despite volunteering as a mourner, Tim couldn't really bring himself to feel much of anything for Gerard. He had never met him and he already had Danny and Sasha to weep over every night. He was at maximum capacity.

He nudged Jons shoulder when only a read gleam was left. He didn't comment on the way Jon flinched back and into Martin. "So... anything else?"

"Hm? Yes. Gerard didn't know how Gertrude wanted to stop the Unknowing. But he said she was keeping a key somewhere in case something happened to her? He said it could be that she had stashed something somewhere in the institute that could help us."

"Great. That's all?"

"I'm afraid so..."

"Hey." Martin piped up. "I mean that's something? It's not a deadend, at least."

"True. Any news on your end?"

Tim let out a weary breath. "Nadda. Nothing."

Jon stared unblinking into the cooling ashes and he had never looked his age, what with his pre-greying hair and stuffy attitude, but now he looked decades older, like a frail great grandfather who had lived through several wars.

"No location then. Hm?"

Jon tilted his head, attention snapping to a huge raven that had continually stalked closer and scared the sparrows away. Eerie croaking sounds that shouldn't have been able to be made with a human throat left him. The raven chattered back and hopped up between Martin and Jon, unafraid of the cat, whose tail had begun to lash from side to side.

"Huh." Jon said after the exchange, taking out something from his pocket and gifting it to the bird, stroking over the glossy feathers in thanks.

"What. What was that?" Martin urged, all of them watching the corvid take off to the sky.

"He said there is heightened Stranger activity in Great Yarmouth. Several people with and I quote "wrong faces" have been seen entering and leaving The House of Wax."

"Cool that bird has first hand sightings?" Tim asked. Just because Jon trusted the information didn't mean it was genuine.

Jon looked back at the ashes, sheepish. "Actually... He got it from a mouse before he made a meal out of it."

"Ugh! Why does everything these days have to be morbid?" Tim groaned at the same time Martin laughed and said "Yeah, that checks out."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Tim. Nature is brutal."

"Don't defend the actions of your minions."

"Wha- Tim! They are _not_ my minions! They are free agents just willing to help out because they are good and precious and have never done anything bad in their lifes!"

Tim patted Jons cheek, not bothering to squash down his smile this time. "Bossman, boss. You literally pay them in shinies and food. They may have not signed a contract, but they are totally working for you."

Jon slapped the hand away with a pout. "They just love me."

Martin was giggling through the whole exchange. "Sure they do Jon. Sure they do."

Sniffing in that overdramatic, snobbish manner Tim recognized from ye olde research days Jon stood, the Captain in his arms.

"Fine. I'll leave you to your delusions. And revoke your right to pet the Captain."

"Noooo. He's our emotional support cat!" Martin whined, but the effect was ruined by the snorts he couldn't keep in.

Tim stood, shaking his head at Jons back. "Jon! You forgot your luggage!"

Jon turned and eyed the dark blue case, then looked down at the cat purring in his arms, scrunching up his face.

"You're hopeless."

And too adorable for his own good. Tim added in his mind as he grabbed the luggage and looped his arm through Martins to drag him along. "Come on Marto let's get Jonny boy home."

There was a small voice in his head that told him getting so close again was a bad idea. That voice had been so loud for all those months, but now it was merely a whisper and an uneasy twinge in his chest. Tim stomped on his anxieties, flipping off all the red flashing warning lights that had invaded his thoughts ever since Jons rising paranoia.

This, right here, right now, felt nice. And he hadn't had nice things for such a long time. He'll indulge his wants just this once. He couldn't afford loosing petting privileges now. Cuddling with the Captain was the only thing that lowered his blood pressure these days.

Tim looked away from the hopeful spark in those soft tinted green eyes. Yeah. That was the only reason.


End file.
